


it's not your fault you don't feel safe (it's not your fault so don't take blame)

by starsofthesky (psyfi)



Series: Won't you stay with me, my darling (when this house don't feel like home?) [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Gen, Purpled Angst, anyway! this isn't the end of the reactions, but it was a good cut off point, but tell me if you need anything tagged!, i don't think there's triggers in this one, i love sam he was fun to write, maybe a war ridden land Isn't the place to have fun and make friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27770053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psyfi/pseuds/starsofthesky
Summary: Purpled's absence is slowly noted, but there's nothing left to do but reflect.And plan.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, honestly there's a lot of interactions in this one but there's no one focus, no romance in my spitefic-
Series: Won't you stay with me, my darling (when this house don't feel like home?) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031400
Comments: 6
Kudos: 179





	it's not your fault you don't feel safe (it's not your fault so don't take blame)

**Author's Note:**

> hi again! i'm really glad so many people liked this, so I'll definitely continue it! thank you for all the nice comments  
> title from It's On Us by AJR

**niki.**

She watches as the door quietly closes behind him, tears tracing a path through the fine layer of flour that now seems omnipresent on her face. The cold that Purpled had brought in with him is slowly vanquished by the heat of her ovens, and as she struggles to put away the netherite armor, she can’t help but think of blazing campfires in the heart of L’manberg. 

Wilbur would play guitar, strumming to a tune only he understood, but she’d chime in, making a guess at whatever he was trying to sing, and he’d smile at her each time, encouraging her to raise her voice. The others would join in before long, off tune and offbeat but filled with spirit, but before that, for a moment, it’d be something fragile between her and Wilbur, something gentle. 

As the ovens chug on and flour clogs her throat, she squishes any hope of getting that back again deep within her soul. 

**callahan and ponk.**

As the two of them slowly ascend the elevator, Ponk knows what they’ll find in the glass masterpiece hovering above the land. Callahan had shaken him awake this morning with a grim line cutting across his face, handing him his communicator with little fanfare. He had stared at the innocent little message, five words that spell what should be a simple thing. 

Both of them know it’s not simple. 

When they finally clamber out into the UFO, it’s neat, tidy, not a chest out of place, just the way Purpled likes to keep it. Callahan checks through a few of them, and Ponk’s heart falls when he gestures to the scraps that are left. He breathes deeply, and takes a slow, critical turn, eyes searching for anything that could give them a clue to where their fellow neutral has gone, but everything seems normal. 

He’s jolted out of his thoughts by Callahan snapping, and he rushes over, worried. But he comes to a halt when Callahan triumphantly holds up a compass, one that’s been modified by the looks of it. He holds out a note, and with a shaky hand, Ponk takes it. 

Scrawled in Purple’s neat script are the words, “ _Find me when you’re ready.”_ Underneath that is a messier line, seemingly done last minute. 

_“Don’t tell Dream.”_

Ponk takes the compass, and on closer inspection, it doesn’t swing towards spawn, but instead towards Manberg, and beyond. His eyes shoot up, meeting Callahan’s watery grin. 

“How did he get one of Dream’s manhunt compasses…” Ponk swipes the glass face with a finger, wiping away a miniscule amount of dust. He fights the urge to laugh, eyes tracing the needle as he swipes again to clear the glass.

Callahan shrugs, but his face is filled with relief. The two of them stand for a moment before Callahan takes the initiative and heads for the exit. 

Ponk takes one final look around, chest light for the first time today, and his eyes catch on something on the horizon. 

Technoblade walks through Manberg, seemingly on his way to the Nether portal, and Ponk decides not to question what he’d need. The man is already decked out in netherite, but there’s plenty of potion ingredients within the Nether as well. 

He doesn’t question the potions either. 

But as Ponk looks out from a now-abandoned house, watching an anarchist stalk through a land he’s set to destroy, he can’t find enough rage to build up against the infamous hybrid. 

There’s nothing but a bone-deep apathy for the land he’d once called his home.

**karl.**

He skips along the wooden path, mindlessly dodging random holes that have yet to be patched up, and jumping traps that would send him to his demise. He’d been bored, and Dream had brushed him off, citing important admin business, and Sapnap had refused to get out of bed, a bad respawn leaving him with bruises and sores all over. 

He only really believed the latter. 

Karl would’ve messaged George, but the Brit hadn’t been on the server in awhile, and he didn’t have any clue when he’d be back. 

Exhausting all his usual options, he’d decided to check in on Purpled. He hadn’t really hung out with the kid before, and he wanted to change that, seeing as he was at least semi-neutral. 

He shoots the teen a message, just to make sure it’s okay if he swings by, but the message pings back with an error. He frowns, and tries sending it again. 

_[Error: player not found.]_

Karl scrolls back up in chat, slight concern gnawing him. 

Sure enough, Purpled had left the server, and judging by the time stamp, in the dead of night. The concern builds, something rotten filling his throat. 

He diverts his path, heading back the way he came. Something’s not right. 

**sam.**

The bakery sits, peaceful and tranquil, as Sam hops over another creeper hole, mind set on some cake after hours spent toiling over redstone in his house. 

Well, it was more of a bunker really, but it felt like home. 

The door swings open silently, and as he steps in, he takes in the sight of Karl sitting quietly at one of the few tables scattered around, face pensive and withdrawn. 

“Hey dude!” He waves, and Karl blinks out of his stupor. 

“Hey Sam.” 

The multicolored man sounds...subdued, nothing like his usual bubbly self. 

“Everything okay?” He looks around the bakery, the constant hum of the ovens halted, leaving the space silent. “Where’s Niki?” 

“She’s out.” Karl ignores the first question, fiddling with something in his hands. Sam doesn’t comment on it, and makes his way over. 

“Guess I’ll wait with you then. I just stopped by for some cake, but a break would be nice.” 

Karl looks up, giving him a slight grin, before it slips off, mouth forming back into a solemn line. 

Sam doesn’t know what to say, so the two sit in quiet silence, communicators pinging every now and again, a quick check showing nothing of importance, just people asking what others are up to. 

It’s maybe ten minutes before the door opens, and a flustered Niki hurries in. She turns to close the door and lock it, and when she turns back around, she startles, not expecting the two of them there. 

Niki looks, for the lack of a better term, like hell. 

Her eyes are red and puffy, makeup still smudged beneath from when she had wiped at her tears. Her usually tame hair is tucked up into a bun, flyways framing her face and leaving her looking disheveled. Her chest heaves, wrinkled clothing rising and falling with each breath. 

She looks like she hasn’t slept in days. 

Sam shoots Karl a look, one he quickly returns. Both of them stand, and in Sam’s case, a cautious hand hovers over his sword. 

“Niki, what happened?” Karl steps forward, hands raised. 

Niki shakes, arms held closely to her body, as she bites her lip in thought. It hurts to watch, and Sam can’t help but notice how the bags beneath her eyes are darker than normal. 

He doesn’t know why Niki having eye bags is normal, and the thought stings him a bit. 

“I…” She trails off, and her eyes dart around the room. 

“Niki…” Karl’s voice is gentle, but heavy with some emotion Sam can’t name. “Where’s Purpled?” 

The baker freezes, eyes wide. “How do you-”

“It’s just a hunch, but I’m guessing I’m not too far off the mark.” He scrubs at his face, resigned. 

Sam is officially lost. 

“What’s going on?” He drops his hand from his sword, only to immediately dart back to it when Niki lets out a muffled sob, hands going to cover her face. Karl leaps forward just in time to catch her as she crumbles, holding her as what Sam is pretty sure is another round of tears starts up. 

He feels useless, watching as Karl shushes Niki, humming as she heaves and coughs, voice hoarse. He feels even more useless as Karl guides her to a chair, the same one Sam was just in, patting her back in slow, gentle motions. 

Feeling the urge to do _something_ , Sam makes his way into the kitchen, which is normally closed with a small, hip level door, but it swings open at the slightest touch. He sets out a glass, pouring some water into it, and turning back around, he’s surprised to see full netherite tucked under the counter, no care at all to its position. 

Sam doesn’t have all the pieces, but based on the little he does have, he really doesn’t like this puzzle. 

Niki is somewhat calmed down when he gets back, and he sets down the water in front of her with a small thud against the tabletop. She takes it, a small thank you escaping her lips, and Sam steps back, leaning against the wall while Karl retakes his chair. 

“You don’t have to say anything yet Niki, just tell us when you’re ready.” Sam finally speaks, and Niki nods, sipping at her water. 

It takes a few moments before Niki draws a deep breath, and says, “Purpled left.” 

Karl inhales, eyes widening, but Sam is lost, something hollow building in his chest. “What do you mean he left? To Hypixel?” 

Niki shakes her head, eyes glassy. “No, he left the server...for good.” 

Oh. 

Sam rests his head against the wall, thankful his mask covers his face as his eyes close in thought. He was a new arrival, so he wasn’t close with Purpled, not at all, but even he can tell this is big. 

Karl plays with the thing in his hands again, moving it too quickly for Sam to get a look. “Do you know what happened?” 

Niki rests her head in her hands, energy spent. “He came by here last night, fully ready to leave, but I got him to come inside and eat something first.” Her voice is muffled, but he can hear how torn but she is, tears barely contained. “He gave me his netherite, said he wouldn't need it where he was going.” She looks up, eyes unfocused. “He was supposed to feel safe here, and loved, but with all these stupid wars and politics, it was just too much.” 

Niki hiccups, hands dropping from her face as she glares at the table, fists clenched. “He almost broke down just from me hugging him.” 

The two men are silent, the gravity of it setting in. From what Sam had heard from Sapnap, Purpled had been here from almost the start of the server. He had spent that time goofing off with Tommy and Tubbo, just three kids playing around, having fun, and Sam hadn’t missed the wistful look in the arsonist’s eyes when he spoke of it. But then the revolution had started, and the teen had remained neutral, cutting him off from his friends. 

“Surely Dream would be able to-” Sam poses, but Niki darts her head back, eyes wild. 

“Don’t!” Seeing them flinch, Niki lowers her voice, and continues. “Don’t. He doesn’t want to be found, at least not yet.” 

Karl opens his mouth, but he closes it with a snap, giving Niki a quick nod. Sam shifts off from the wall, pacing the floor, mind racing. 

“What if...what if we left?” 

Sam stops, turning about on his heel. Karl’s hands lay clasped on the table, but judging from Niki’s expression, he definitely didn’t mishear it. 

“I’m not saying now!” He grins, but it fades a moment later. “I’m just...it’s an option, you know? I know some people, we can find Purpled, or at least get a message to him.” 

“I thought you liked it here Karl?” Sam crosses his arms, genuinely confused. 

“I thought I did too.” His voice is quiet, and he looks drawn in on himself. “But Niki’s right, it’s hard to have fun when war is right around the corner, and anything you build could be burned down whenever.” He exhales shakily. “I originally joined for the Dream Team, because we’re friends, but I barely see any of them now. It gets kinda lonely just building your own projects, with no one to talk to.” 

Niki reaches her hand across the table and gives Karl’s arm a gentle squeeze. “I’m sorry Karl, I understand where you’re coming from.” 

Oh, right. Niki had been trapped in Manberg, while the rest of her friends had been exiled or switched sides. That must feel extremely isolating. 

Sam doesn’t really know what to do, but he promises both Niki and Karl to not tell a soul about Purpled, or any future plans that may spring up. 

He gets back to his bunker, which doesn’t feel so much like a home anymore.

**tommy and tubbo.**

As Tubbo clambers behind a tree, Tommy following suit, he can’t help but feel as if something is off. The area around Church Prime looks the same as it always does, the lights outside it fighting valiantly against the dusk, and as the two of them abandon their hiding places to make a break for it again, he wonders why they don’t just enter the holy land. 

Where they end up, however, is Purpled’s house, and Tommy rushes in without a single thought, but Tubbo scans the skyline, desperately looking for any sign of the masked man that had been hunting them. He had started chasing them as soon as they’d left Pogtopia’s lands, and his chest heaves from the endless sprinting. He doesn’t know why he decided to go after them so randomly, but he’d already made his chosen side clear to Tommy a few days ago in the ravine. 

(But Tubbo does know why Dream did it. It’s always the same reason. It’s just a game to him.)

With the coast seemingly clear, he ascends to the top of the UFO, finally taking a deep breath as he breaches the surface. 

“I don’t know how long we can stay here, but-” Tubbo begins, but Tommy is already rooting around in chests, looking for anything that could help them. 

“Purpled has jack shit Tubbo, there’s like nothing here.” Tommy tosses a stray dirt block over his shoulder, and Tubbo dodges it just in time to avoid being hit. He leaves him to it, walking to the edge of the glass and taking the role of lookout, searching the horizon. 

It takes him an embarrassing amount of time to notice the barren fields beneath his feet. 

“Tommy…” Tubbo trails off, mind caught up in possibilities and what-ifs. The space behind his eyes throbs with tension, and he presses a hand to the glass, only for it to leave an imprint in the dust that has gathered there. 

“What?” Tommy finally looks up from his looting, frowning at Tubbo’s frozen stance. “Come on man, I need your help looking for shit, these chests are just blocks and nothing else.” He slams the lid of the large chest he’d been fruitlessly buried in for the past few minutes and moves on to the next. “It’s weird, man, I thought-” 

“He’s gone.” 

Tommy stops, hand resting on the chest, as he gives Tubbo his full attention. “What?”

“Purpled’s gone.” He points a hand at the once-blooming fields beneath them, only to see dirt with just the beginnings of weeds poking from beneath the ground. Tubbo swipes a hand over a chest close to him, and the action kicks up dust into the air, lit up in lilac from the panes behind him. The whole room is covered in a fine layer of it, just enough to be noticeable. “I think he has been for a while.” 

Tommy frowns, and takes out his communicator, thinking. “Well, maybe he’s just off in Hypixel, you know how he…” He stops, as the time stamp for Purpled’s exit message is weeks old by now, way too long for a simple trip to play some Bedwars. 

The two teens are silent, examining the space around them as the final rays of the sun paint the room a strange hue, adding to the eerie atmosphere. 

“Well maybe he’s just-” Tubbo cuts himself off, voice quiet. His face seems to light up. “His bed! It should still be his respawn point, so if he’s in danger he’ll just come back here!” He races over, communicator out. “I tweaked it a bit, so I should be able to see if-” 

He stops, his hand going limp. Tommy follows, and he may not know what all the numbers scrolling across the screen mean, but the [ _No respawn point found.]_ tells him enough. 

“He left.” Tubbo’s voice is whisper-soft, body shaking as he sits on the bed, and he feels like a final string has been cut, leaving him to float and drift. Tommy sits, fists clenched, but not in rage. 

“Why didn’t...why didn’t he tell us!” Tommy’s voice cracks, overcome with emotion. “We deserve to know, before he just, just _goes off-”_

“We don’t.” Tubbo mumbles, and Tommy whirls around, gobsmacked.  
“What? Of course we-”

“When was the last time we even _talked_ to Purpled Tommy?!” Tubbo meets his eyes, and there’s fire there, fueled with regret and guilt. “He’s our friend Tommy, and we just...forgot about him!” He runs his fingers through his hair, leaving it a mess, and Tommy doesn’t know what to do. “He doesn’t owe us anything.” 

Tommy looks down, hands fisted, and he forces them to relax, leaving sharp red crescents in his skin. They’re in the middle of the war, and now he’s getting emotional about a long lost friend leaving? 

(But it’s not just that. It feels like a betrayal, even though Purpled was neutral, was simply living his life, and Tommy almost wishes he had chosen to do the same. But it feels like a betrayal, and he’s already had too many of those.) 

(He doesn’t know when Purpled became lost to him, but the grief hits him now full force.)

“He’s braver than we could ever be.” Tommy tries not to sound bitter, but it’s true. They could just run, leave the fighting to adults, but yet, they stay.

As they sit and wait for the night to pass, minds and bodies wound too tightly, they speak in whispers, and a tentative, half-realized plan is formed. 

Just in case. 

Somewhere in the dark, an admin stalks the night, humming a tune, unaware of the stars judging him from above. 


End file.
